


Inter Arma Enim

by TiredAcademic



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Gen, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-07-25 02:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16188209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiredAcademic/pseuds/TiredAcademic
Summary: Even in times of war, Guardians have their own lives to lead. A collection of short stories featuring an inexperienced young Warlock and a veteran Titan. Forsaken spoilers in future releases. Cross-posted from FF.net.





	1. Chapter 1

Since the Incident at the Widow's Court, and the subsequent trial that stripped him of his enforcer status, Rhylan found himself with more time than he knew what to do with. Foregoing his Black Shield armor for one that celebrated what Zavala called the "Age of Heroes," the old Titan has been scouring the system for remnants of the now-dead Sunbreaker Order -- any indications that the legendary group of exiles once held power beyond what the City condoned.

While he pored over the still-functioning digital archives in the Ishtar Collective on Venus -- an irony, considering it was here where he first set out to learn the fury of Fire -- he heard a loud crash in the 2nd level of the small library, followed by a string of profanities the Titan could not help but chuckle at.

As a compromise between the Vanguard and the increasingly-overbearing City Consensus, Rhylan would be allowed to leave the confines of the Walls if and only if he was accompanied by at least one other Guardian -- in this case, the young Crucible champion and Voidwalker Kiara Proel. And judging by how she seemed to flit about, her youth was a testament to how much she had to learn in the way of patience.

"How much longer do we have to be here?" the Warlock bemoaned from the upper level.  
"Until I find what I'm looking for, Warlock."

Footsteps can be heard as the Warlock made her descent, her stride doing little to hide her annoyance at the Titan's seemingly passive attitude. "You don't even know what you're looking for, so can we please stop wasting each other's time and go back home?"

At this, the Titan seemed to pause for a few seconds, then returned to his work of poring over the archives he was obsessed with -- archives that the Sunbreakers seemed to use as a terminal for storing transmissions between outposts.

His silence elicited another groan of frustration from the Voidwalker. Stomping around the first floor, Kiara complained, "Why was I assigned to you anyway? Ikora of all people should've known I have matches scheduled today, on top of training Shaxx's stupid fucking rookies how to capture fucking Zones. Let's not even get started on you, you failure of a--"

The Warlock paused abruptly when she turned to the general direction of the Titan and saw him seemingly glaring daggers at her, despite his face being obscured from view by his helmet. To his credit, the Titan only stared for a moment, and his shoulders visibly sagged as he let out a small but audible sigh. 

His voice low, Rhylan said to the Warlock, "I know you haven't forgiven me, and I have enough reason to believe you never will. If you really want to, you can return to the Tower and tell Ikora that I ditched you in the middle of nowhere; I won't hold it against you if you left me here. The choice is, ultimately, yours to make."

Kiara stood frozen, pondering the choice being offered to her. After what must have been minutes, she gave a reply too quiet for even Rhylan to hear. "What did you say?" he said softly.

"... I won't ditch you. If Ikora assigned me to you, then this must be some sort of test from her. But I won't enjoy your company either, got it?" Kiara said sharply.

"Fair enough."


	2. A Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some (?) spoilers for the Forsaken campaign's Baron Hunt.

Rhylan felt himself slipping away.

It took just about everything he had left in him to even kneel; his left arm dangled and felt strangely disconnected from his body. Through his helmet's cracked visor he could see Reksis Vahn struggling to push himself up, and his mutilated claw desperately clung to whatever chains remained attached to his flail. Straining against his injuries, the Titan stood up - legs practically screaming with pain - to look for his discarded hand cannon. It was nowhere to be found.

Neither was Kiara.

Reksis Vahn had risen to one knee and twisted the upper half of his body to stare back at the Lightbearer. Despite the lack of illumination, Rhylan could see what a well-placed grenade had done to him: a portion of his helmet had been blown open, and where should have been his right eyes were now streams of corrupted Ether streaming down his face.

Knowing that he had mere moments to react, he let the right hand that had been unconsciously clutching his shoulder drop to his side, and began to let Arc energy course through that same arm, then the rest of his body. The hated Hangman - sensing the end to this duel - had coiled his legs and prepared to spring at the Guardian, his intact right appendage holding up and spinning the now-burning flail in the air. Neither being moved for a second. Then another.

Rhylan's body burst with torrents of Arc energy; Reksis Vahn roared and split the silence between them.

Rhylan shot into the air - his body a living missile of pure lightning - and aimed for the oversized Eliksni; the Hangman swung his flail to strike the Titan out of the sky.

A charged fist connected with an alien skull, and two bodies hurtled towards the end of the dank pit.

  


Kiara rushed to the slums. Having been delayed by the nearly endless waves of the Scorn that she told Rhylan she would handle, Kiara worried about the fight between the Hangman and her partner - what with the way the Titan seemed to shake with anger every time the Eliksni gloated over their comms.

She eventually came to a stop at the pit where her helmet's tracker pinged Rhylan's radar signature. Summoning her Ghost to unlock the door blocking her path, the Warlock could only grip her rifle tighter as she waited anxiously for whatever sight would greet her.

The door's seals hissed open as her Ghost dematerialized. Stepping into the doorway, Kiara allowed her helmet to compensate for the lack of illumination before turning and moving towards the direction of a rather sickening sound - bones shattering bones.

Her heart sank when her helmet lit up to give her a better view of what was in front of her: an injured and armored figure - left arm dangling, right arm raised and curled into a fist - pounding what seemed to be an enlarged skull that had caved due to the force of the trauma. Kiara dropped her weapon and sprinted towards the Titan kneeling next to the Baron's corpse, hands reaching to pull the Guardian away.

"Rhylan, stop!"

Her plea seemingly heard, Rhylan held his fist frozen in the air as he felt slender arms curl around him. "Stop, please. He's dead," Kiara's voice quivered. "You've done it. The Hangman's dead." Stricken with concern, the Warlock shifted to see that Rhylan's helmet had depolarized, and his face could be seen through the cracked visor. She held her breath when she saw the Titan's face wet with his own tears.

Rhylan lowered his arm and remained still, his exhausted body leaning into Kiara for support. As the Warlock shifted to a more comfortable position she heard Rhylan let out a sob, followed by another. She hugged him a little tighter as the Titan cried silently.

They stayed like that for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I miss Cayde.


	3. Chapter 3

**LOG EXCERPTS TAKEN FROM JOURNAL OF WARLOCK KIARA PROEL.**

_PERSONAL LOG ENTRY 1152._

We're being stalled.

Or, maybe more accurately, we're stalling ourselves for time.

It's only been an hour since we liberated Kalli from her Taken form, and we've already had to pause a half-dozen times. Gerun-3 keeps talking about whispers he says only he can hear – whispers about power beyond imagination at the heart of the city.

Normally, I'd ignore it – we ARE being sent to kill "an immense creature" – but I noticed that he's managed to unnerve even Lorim and Rhylan (Yeah, I can tell when he gets unnerved now). I swear, put those three geezers in a place filled with mystery and they'd be unnerved right away.

It's probably nothing.

_PERSONAL LOG ENTRY 1153._

It wasn't nothing after all.

We've been sitting a good hundred meters away from the Ascendant Portal for close to an hour now, because Gerun goes mad every time he steps near it. We were all suspicious at first, but then Rhylan started clutching his head as if in pain, and Lorim has been stealing glances at every which way. We couldn't fight like this, so I called for us to stop here and wait until whatever this is passes.

Rhylan agreed right away. Maybe I could get used to this fireteam leader thing after all.

I wish I could.

_PERSONAL LOG ENTRY 1156._

The whispers turned to screams.

Gerun couldn't handle the noise so he shot himself after expressly forbidding his Ghost from rezzing him. I did, anyway. Rhylan and Illum – another Titan – had to pin the Hunter down so he couldn't reach for his gun and start spraying bullets everywhere.

He wailed like a mad man – strange sight, for an Exo to do that – while Lorim and Relena struggled to remove his bone-like gauntlets and tossed them to me for "safekeeping."

Lorim came up with the idea that he, Rhylan and Gerun were probably the only ones who could even hear the whispers because they took part in the Great Hunt centuries ago. Something about a connection with the Ahamkara they never even knew existed. Rhylan told me that until things "settle down," I'll have to help him with leading the team. I couldn't wish for anything else, I said.

_PERSONAL LOG ENTRY 1160._

We've just gotten past the Vault's lock mechanisms. I can tell that everyone's running ragged – including our fearless Titan leader.

_Yes_

If Lorim and I are right, then the next fight will probably be the hardest one.

Riven.

_Closer_

Rhylan pulled me aside while we marched deeper into the City. "I'm counting on you," he said to me.

As I acknowledged him, I could hear a small, nagging voice at the back of my head telling me that he really didn't. I didn't listen to that voice; I was just glad that, after all this time, he trusted me enough to be at his side near the end.

-ake his plac- 

I couldn't wish for anything else.

_…-earer mine._

_PERSONAL LOG ENTRY 1165._

We killed her. We killed Riven.

But I almost killed Rhylan.

When we convened with the Techeuns, I pulled out my gun as if in a trance and shot at him. His armor deflected the bullet meant for his head, and before I could take another shot at him he was already rushing me, an Arc overshield forming around him as he sprinted.

Behind my mask, I had already closed my eyes and resigned to my fate. That death never came.

I felt Rhylan's hand reaching for me, but instead of channeling Arc energy through me he reached for the Ahamkara bones dangling at my belt. Snatching them so violently that I fell backwards, he threw the bones in the air. Pointing his shotgun upwards, he squeezed the trigger and destroyed the last fragments of a now-dead species.

I felt naked, lying on the floor. I felt like I was stripped of everything but my shame at what I just did. A moment of silence passed before he reached out to me with his hand. I felt like I didn't deserve it. I knew I couldn't take it.

I did anyway.

His hand was warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly had no idea what I was going for with this. The joys of inebriation, I suppose.
> 
> Next chapter will take a little while longer to post, thanks to the rigors of the academe. If I don't make the 26/27 October cut, I'll post 2 chapters the following week to make up for it.


	4. An Edict of Swords

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a lot of fun writing this one, so enjoy.

As Rhylan felt his boots dig into the wet snow of the mountaintop, he took off his helmet and - for the first time in more than a year - breathed in the cold air of Felwinter's Peak. The Titan could see that not much had changed for the mountaintop since the end of the SIVA Crisis; save for a few munitions and supply crates bearing Crucible markings Vostok was deserted, and Rhylan could not help but feel grateful for Shaxx's foresight in cancelling all scheduled matches for the outpost that week.

Pushing past the gates to the Iron Temple, Rhylan could see wolves lying on the snow-capped steps and eyeing him with a lazy regard. On the balcony of the entrance to the Temple stood two armored figures that did not so much as speak to one another - Shaxx and Saladin.

As the enforcer climbed the steps to reach the two lords, he heard Shaxx remark in his usual brass tone, "About time you got here, Kingslayer. Why did you ask us to meet you in the temple of all places?"

As Rhylan reached the landing, Saladin followed, "Not only that, but you also asked us to bring your pieces of HIS sword. What's going on, my friend?"

Concern etched on his face, the Titan let out an audible sigh and brought out his Ghost, who proceeded to transmat into its Guardian's open palm a shard of what seemed to be a rock that bore a midnight purple hue. "It's finally time," Rhylan spoke simply.

Shaxx's crossed arms dropped as he and Saladin - almost solemnly - brought out their Ghosts, and similar shards materialized onto their hands soon after. The Titans held out their pieces and watched as the shards floated mid-air and combined into one fragment of the most hated weapon in the universe - Willbreaker, the sword of the Taken King himself.

As the fragment dropped into Rhylan's hands, Saladin interjected the Titans' ruminations. "The temple's forges have not been lit for some time. It will take us a while to heat this blade enough to -"

"Saladin," Rhylan interrupted. "Are we not dragons of light?"

At this, Shaxx crossed his arms and let out a series of chuckles; Saladin could only smile determinedly.

"Let us begin."

* * *

Whereas Saladin pondered the intricacies of the design, Shaxx instead marveled at Rhylan's schematics. "This is a masterwork, Rhys. I hope these hands are skilled enough to make it reality."

Rhylan smiled and took a deep breath as the three Titans eventually took their designated posts around the forge, and the shard of Willbreaker was readied for its own remaking.

Though the heat inside the forges was unbearable, the Titans' next order of business necessitated their adorning full sets of armor. Simultaneously, they all drew on the Light and summoned their Hammers of Sol - the kind that resembled war hammers more than simply ornate mallets.

The forge flared with the power of the Light, its heat scorching to all Guardians but the select few who truly understood and respected the fury of suns. Day in and day out, three such imposing beings occupied the forge and moved with immeasurable purpose; the fragment of a blade that once cut the universe so finely was mixed with metal and fire through deadly effort.

The shard of Willbreaker was eventually trimmed down and torn to pieces by the three smiths. One of those pieces was given the most attention - a length of pure midnight that was reshaped with relic iron to fit its new purpose. As the temple forges burned, Rhylan's Ghost displayed a schematic of the weapon he wanted to fashion from Oryx's cleaver - a blade that would make its wielder bridge life and death without the sword logic's complications in between.

Four days after beginning their endeavours, the Titans found their work impeded by an unnatural complication Shaxx pointed out not long after Rhylan shared the philosophy inherent in the weapon's design.

"It is not enough for the weapon to be forged with our Hammers, then. It must cut its enemies with deadly precision, but also empower its user with the Light."

"Should we temper the blade with Void Light?" Rhylan asked. "If this one means to define the universe as one without our enemies, then it will require more than the fury of fire when it strikes."

"That could work," Saladin added. "If the stories about Kabr are true, then we could fashion this weapon as if it were an extension of our wills.

* * *

For days after, the blade was constantly reforged with renewed intensity, and the Titans focused their wills - imbuing the sword with Void Light - so that the cutting edge of the weapon may know its true purpose. Melted hadium was poured into a mold around the blade, and was fitted as its hilt. Saladin offered a basket case mold for the hilt, but Rhylan insisted on a cruciform - more fitting for a greatsword, he said.

As the sixth day came to a close, the sword was heated with Solar fire and quenched again and again, each time making the blade stronger. Its makers' exhaustion was all but apparent and their suits of armor were singed and covered in ash, but for all their tireless work they still seemed to possess energy to behold the weapon.

At midday on the seventh day, the trio of warrior-smiths stood around a table upon which the weapon had been placed. Shaxx's concerns about Rhylan's application of the sword-logic has now made itself all too apparent: the weapon was found unable to empower its wielder. A quick venture to the EDZ at daybreak - and dozens of dead Hive - proved that their efforts had not been enough.

As Rhylan paced throughout the hall, Saladin loomed over the weapon as if he might have missed a detail in his exhaustion. "I think I understand the flaw in our design," the Iron Lord said.

Both Rhylan and Shaxx - who leaned over the table as well - turned to their mentor as Saladin continued. "I remember Shaxx's troubles with Bolt-Caster when he was forging swords for the other Kingslayers. He -"

Before the Iron Lord could speak further, the doors to the temple were thrown open, and the three immediately reached for their weapons but subsequently relaxed when they noticed who had walked in. Harsh winter winds blowing at his back, the figure strode towards the trio before coming to a halt mere steps away from the table.

"Rhylan," he addressed.

"Zavala."

"What are you doing here?" the Vanguard Commander questioned, eyeing Lords Saladin and Shaxx suspiciously. Likewise, the two Titans rose from their respective perches on the table to full height.

"Building a weapon," Rhylan replied almost nonchalantly. "More importantly, how did you know we were here?"

"It's not difficult to figure out where three of the most prominent Titans in the Tower could have gone off to."

The two stared at each other for a short moment before Rhylan continued. "Are you here to stop us?"

"... I can see that it's too late for that, anyway." The Commander paused briefly, then followed with, "Can I be assured that this weapon won't be misused?"

Saladin bellowed from the table, "We all know what needs to be done if it comes to that, Zavala. Now come over here, we need your help too."

A ghost of a smile flashed on Zavala's face, and he clutched Rhylan's shoulders for a moment before the pair surrounded the table with Saladin and Shaxx.

"You were saying, old friend?"

Saladin once again leaned on the table with both hands before he spoke. "As I was saying, this weapon failed to empower the user's Light because it didn't recognize what Light was. The heart of the blade needs to know Light in its complete form."

"So it still needs Arc energy?" Shaxx asked incredulously.

"Yes."

The group stood silent for mere seconds before Rhylan broke into laughter, and the rest slowly followed suit. Their cries of joy eventually died down to mere chuckles, and Rhylan flashed a smile to his companions before continuing, "Shall we finish this?"

As he spoke the air around all four Titans crackled with electricity, and the world trembled as Light in its most destructive form engulfed all the corners of the temple.

* * *

Kiara sat on a stool by the kitchen counter and ate as she reviewed the latest Vanguard reports pertinent to her future assignments. Ever since Rhylan upped and left a week ago, she had been picking up the slack and doing the work intended for him, and as such have put her Crucible matches on hold.

_I hate you so much right now, Rhys._

The Warlock's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her apartment door sliding open, followed by distinct footfalls. Turning in her seat to face the newcomer, Kiara was greeted with the sight of an exhausted man wearing an off-duty jacket and cargo pants who seemed to drag his feet to a nearby couch.

Leaving the data pad she was holding on the counter-top, Kiara slid off of her stool and stood behind the man who had simply planted himself on the couch. As she made to bend over and wrap her arms around his neck, she thought she smelled ash and soot on his person.

"Did you track soot into the apartment?" she whispered into his right ear. A distinct 'No,' though almost inaudible, seemed to satisfy her.

A few seconds are spent in silence before Kiara asks again. "Why do you smell burnt?"

The man half-opened his tired eyes and raised both his hands - his right to clutch Kiara's forearm, and his left to summon his Ghost. The little Light seemed to know what his Guardian wanted him to do, and materialized the sword safely on the table. With the late afternoon sun peering through the windows, the sword seemed to shine despite its midnight finish.

"It's beautiful."

"Mhmm."

A few more seconds pass. "Do you have a name for it?" Kiara whispers again.

Rhylan turns his head slowly to face Kiara and peck her left cheek, before gliding his lips over to her ear.

"... Charon's Reach."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be Kiara-centric. Thanks for stopping by, folks.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Kiara story will have to wait a bit, folks. Between playing RDR2 and grinding for the NF weapons (got myself the curated Horror's Least and a terrible Mindbender's Ambition), I had almost no time to finish her story.

Every year since Six Fronts, I lost friends to our enemies, or something else entirely. Kabr. The Lords. Vell and his team. Saint. Andal.

Cayde.

As a Guardian, I'm used to being an instrument of death and destruction that inspires terror in my enemies. I'm used to dying over and over until I have no more enemies to die against. But when a friend dies their final death? I'll never get used to it.

By some foolish hope, I wanted the Red War to be the last time people I cared for would be permanently taken from me. For a while after the Traveler woke, I let myself believe that, finally, it would be the same kind of shield we have been for it these past few centuries. That it would finally help us help ourselves. That it has come to save us again.

What a fool I've been.

The Traveler saved us and destroyed Ghaul utterly, but could we have won without its interference? We now cherish our Light more than ever as we mourn those who fell, but has the Traveler spoken to us since?

No, and I doubt it'll start anytime soon.

As I stare outside the window of this apartment, I can't help but feel a strange distance between myself and the god-like entity that seems to watch over us. Back then, I used to think that being a shield for the Traveler was the highest calling I could answer - that protecting it meant seeking out my enemies far from home.

But when I look at the beautiful, sleeping figure beside me on this warm bed, I realize what went wrong for all of us: we forgot to go back and protect our home. And I don't mean just fighting to retake the City and keep the Traveler safe either.

We forgot to look after our own.

So it's up to us to protect each other from the monsters lurking in the dark. It's up to us to be our own swords and shields. That's what a Guardian does.

And I'll be damned if the Guardian next to me falls before I do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shortest work yet, considering I wrote this at 2 AM after grinding for 5 hours. If I get another Mindbender's today I'll finish the Kiara story.


	6. Close Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spent about 4 months trying to write this. To say I don't like it is a little bit of an understatement.

I wish I had died today.

I _should_ have died today.

Today was almost like any other day for me in the Tower: routine. Boring.

After my fireteam was asked to join Ikora's Hidden, I got left behind with nothing on my plate. Figured they wouldn't let someone inexperienced like me to do something as dangerous as Nightfall operations on my own, so I asked Shaxx if he needed an extra hand training the other rookies because -- let's face it -- none of them knows what objectives mean, although that's besides the point.

Rambling. Focus.

Anyway, today started out like any other day. I made a beeline for Shaxx's station in the new Tower once I left my apartment to see what new matches he's drafted me into, when I was stopped on the way by a Hunter.

She asked if I wanted to join her and a few others in a private match of Rumble, saying something about trying out a new weapon in a "less chaotic situation." I can't remember. Anyway.

This Hunter had a certain air about her. She was kinda arrogant but also unsure, and her voice seemed to break at times whenever she spoke to us -- as if she was nervous about something.

I had to sign off first with Shaxx before I committed to anything, but I told her I was up for it when she gave me a list of our other competitors: three other Hunters and a Titan. Easy pickings, I told her.

She laughed when I said that, and I felt shivers down my spine when she did. That should've been my first warning, but I didn't know. _I didn't know._

_I didn't know._

Breathe.

Breath and focus, as Shaxx would have said.

When we left the Tower, we all agreed to transmat into different zones around the arena -- a fairly nondescript Vex structure on Nessus -- so that finding one another would be fair game for everyone.

Turns out, it was fairer game for _her._

An error in my ship's transmat device delayed my landing on the arena, but as soon as my boots touched the ground, I was tackled by the Titan and was pinned against the face of a nearby Vex pillar. I was about to reach for my holdout when he muffled my mouth with one of his gauntlets hands, and the other had a raised index finger touching the part of his helmet where his mouth would have been.

Quiet, he seemed to say, so I complied by giving him a slight nod. As he slowly let go of me, we heard gunshots ring in the distance -- specifically, Golden Gun shots. That seemed to get his attention, as the Titan turned and drew the sniper rifle that had been slung at his back. He peered into its scope for a moment before exhaling and taking a knee, not once looking back at me.

"Got a name, 'lock?" He called out to me.

"K-Kiara," I replied shakily.

"Galus-3. Got any idea what mess we've just landed into, kid?"

"N-no?" I was still so shaken by his full-body tackle that I could hardly gain my bearings, much less figure out what this 'mess' was.

Another series of Golden Gun shots rang in the distance, but they were getting closer to us now.

"Here's the gist of it: soon as I landed, I saw that Hunter who invited us kill two others with her hand cannon in cold blood. Shot their Ghosts too. Her piece? Thorn."

At that point, I felt my blood run cold. Every Guardian -- new and old -- has heard of Thorn, and those who wanted to follow in Dredgen Yor's footsteps. I knew right then that I should run for my life, and the Exo seemed to have read my mind. He had risen from his perch and turned slightly to face me.

"I know you're gonna want to run, and I won't stop you. But the two of us -- and that one other guy if he makes it -- are the only ones who can stop her right here, right now."

He reached out his hand in invitation and said, "You in, kid?"

I regretted saying yes, because the moment I did that Hunter rounded a far off corner and started shooting at us with her hand cannon. Although we both barely had time to react, it seemed that Galus already had a plan in the works. His body flashed a bright purple, and a Sentinel Shield had materialized in his hand.

The Hunter kept firing at us while Galus held his shield up to guard the two of us. He yelled at me to shoot the Hunter, so I did. I knew, though, that the shield wasn't gonna last forever -- and so did that Hunter.

The Hunter kept dancing around my shots while Galus pivoted in place so that his shield would face her and cover us at the same time. She must have been keeping track of time, though, because the moment Galus's shield dropped she took _one moment_ to aim and pull the trigger.

Shaxx and Ikora told me that there was nothing I could have done. They're both wrong.

They're wrong because if I said no and ran I wouldn't have to remember that Titan's body lying on the ground. They're wrong because I could have jumped out of that bullet's way faster than _he_ could have jumped _into_ its path.

I ran over to where his body crashed when he jumped in the way and saw that the bullet tore through the left side of his head.

Dead. Because of me.

I heard the Hunter laugh as she approached us, Thorn in hand. My eyes had started to blur, and tears were forming in my eyes. I was alone.

"Looks like you're the last one standing, Warlock."

Click. She was readying her hand cannon again.

"Why don't we make this fair?"

Click. She was reloading Thorn. I still had one bullet in the barrel. I was looking up at her now, but my vision was still blurred by tears.

"Why don't we see who can draw faster? Only one of us is walking out of here alive, anyway."

Click. Her Thorn was ready. My hand was gripping my hand cannon a lot tighter now.

"What do you say?"

Click.

"Any last wo--"

_Bang._

A fifth body fell to the ground that day.

My hands trembled, and I dropped my hand cannon.

I pulled off my helmet.

I put my hands to my face, and I cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might have to rework my uploading schedule from "once a week" to "when I can finally keep my eyelids open." Uni work is picking up, and I need to focus a little bit more on that. Take it easy folks, and I'll see you all next time.


	7. Fatebinder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that it's taken me this long to post something again. Between bouts of depression brought by work-related stresses, grinding out Destiny 2 and other games, and prepping for this holiday season, I haven't had much time to write anything. That being said, I do plan on publishing another work before the 28th, so be on the lookout for that.

An unassuming man strode towards the entrance to the newest nightclub in the district, pulling his non-descript jacket closer as chill winter winds blew over the streets. Though not his go-to whenever he has down time – instead preferring the company of a certain fiery Warlock – tonight he has a job to do for the master of the Hidden.

Walking towards the bar he noticed several pairs of eyes landing on his form; much as he tried to dress down for the occasion, he supposed that some Guardians just have a certain gait that makes them hard to miss. Upon approach he motioned for the bartender, a relatively young woman, and asked for a glass of whatever alcohol toed the line with City regs.

Holding the glass with his left hand while leaning on the countertop with his right arm, he turned around and surveyed the club’s lively dance floor. Several notable Guardians could be seen dancing and drinking with civvies in and out of their armor, and if the man squinted he could’ve sworn he saw a few making out in the darker corners of the building.

Such entertainment, however, was not his purpose for the evening. Surveying allowed him to sight his target – a Warlock dressed in plainclothes headed towards the counter after having left her friends on the floor.

_Heading towards him._

Finishing his glass he turned back towards the bartender and asked for another as the Warlock sidled up to the seat next to his. “I’ll have what he’s having,” she motioned. A few moments of silence would pass as the pair nursed the drinks they were recently handed, the Warlock in particular stealing glances at the Titan next to her. Not that the man didn’t notice.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” she started. “Newly rezzed?” The question came off as innocuous, but if Rhylan knew anything about spycraft it was that the Warlock must have a semblance of an idea about his identity.

“No,” the Titan replied. “I just don’t get out much.” Not a lie, but certainly more than what she needed to know about him. He swirled his glass timidly, as if not at all interested in the conversation. A whispered _Ah_ was all he heard in response, and he assumed that the Warlock would keep to herself for the remainder of the time she was there. Though he needed to maintain the façade of an average Guardian out in town, he knew conversing with his mark like this was a risk.

“Why are you here then? Waiting for someone?” she asked, and though he was not looking at her he knew that the Warlock was smiling, albeit teasingly.

“I am, actually.”

“Ohhh. Who’s the lucky girl? Is it a girl? Or is it a big burly Titan like you?” she replied again so playfully.

“A girl. Another Warlock, like you I believe.” This time, Rhylan had lowered the glass he has pretended to swirl around and play with for the last few minutes or so and lazily made eye contact with his target. A human, with a service record of 324 years if his memory of her file serves correctly. _Almost as old as Mare Imbrium_ , he thought to himself.

“Interesting! Would I happen to know this fellow Warlock?” She was almost in his face now, and he turned ever slightly to finish the last of his whiskey. Putting down the glass and making eye contact with his companion again, Rhylan said, “You should.”

“She’s a reigning Crucible champion.”

At the mention of Crucible champion, the Warlock’s pupils seemed to dilate ever so slightly, and her breath seemed to hitch in her throat for a second.

“O-oh,” she stuttered. “Not many Warlock champions in the Crucible, but which one is it?”

 _Here goes_.

“The one you tried to kill last night.” He made sure to say that last bit out loud for the Guardians along the bar to hear.

Silence.

In a flash, the Warlock smashed her glass against Rhylan’s face, almost certainly blinding his left eye. A nearby Hunter reached for a tucked-away knife, but before he could react the Warlock threw a knife of her own and hit him square on the face, killing him instantly. Civilians began to panic and made for the exit as the Warlock summoned a flaming sword and raised it to guard herself. Rhylan, clutching the side of his face, saw a Titan brandishing a shield and forming a shield wall for the civilians rushing behind her.

_Not good._

Before he could make a move on the Warlock, she made a sweeping motion along the ground and launched an arcing flaming projectile that flew at him and another group of civilians nearby. With no time to waste, Rhylan threw himself in front of the civilians and willed his Light to encase him in a suit of Void armor. The projectile hit Rhylan and the other Titan – who had moved to allow her shield to hit the arcing projectile – and knocked both of them back, the shielded Titan thrown off the ground and onto the dance floor.

Struggling to pick himself up as his Ghost flitted about and healed his injuries – minor at best, though Rin would disagree – Rhylan let the Void light that surrounded him dissipate as he made a beeline towards the exit with civilians being shepherded by less-than-sober Guardians. His target was nowhere to be found.

Moving against the throng of civilians once outside the nightclub, he quickly took stock of both ends of the street before seeing a lone figure running along the snow-caked sidewalks, the flames that previously cloaked her body slowly dying out. With the distance between them, the Titan knew the assailant would get away before he could even catch up.

So he turned himself into a living Arc missile and flew.

Sighting the Warlock for the last time that evening, Rhylan aimed for the end of the street that led onto major thoroughfares for City vehicles and crashed on the pavement with all the fury of thunderous Light. Standing up, he saw that the Warlock had stopped in her tracks; two more Guardians behind her had broken off from the crowd to pursue them both.

Silence, again. This time, however, the Warlock’s right hand now clutched a black shard of metal that seemed to glow eerily green even in the fluorescent City street.

The two Guardians had caught up, firearms on their hands and aimed at both of them. “Stop! In the name of the Vanguard, stop!”

Rhylan, now beginning to glow a bright orange indicative of Solar Light, responded, “Rhylan, Enforcer Designate S315. Warlock Prazek Erin,“ he addressed the assailant, “I have orders to detain you for your attempted murder of Warlock Kiara Proel. Comply, and lower your weapon.”

Breathing heavily from the exertion, Prazek Erin replied, “And if I don’t ‘comply’?” The Warlock had begun to pulse with purple light, albeit faintly.

_Nova Warp. Have to be fast._

The Enforcer did not reply.

_Three._

 “What will you do to me, huh?” The purple light glowed brighter now, and even the two Guardians behind her have begun to back off.

 _Two_.

“Will you kill me, too?”

_One._

“Like all your targets -- ”

Without waiting for her to finish, Rhylan leapt to the air and braced his right hand as a fiery hammer materialized, and the Warlock brought her two hands – one still clutching the shard – and charged her body with Void Light. In the split second the Warlock needed to discharge after charging herself up, a minuscule sun was hurled at her form.

In the aftermath, witnesses – Guardians included – recount the Titan who burned bright like Sol itself and illuminated the City streets that one Dawning evening.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That Kiara story is still in the works, but be sure to look out for it. If you're still here reading my stuff, thanks for sticking around. I find some semblance of joy in people reading what I write outside of academic essays. Take it easy and enjoy the holidays folks.


	8. Sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna write the prequel to Fatebinder, but I was too engrossed in all the things I've been doing this last week (plus the Niobe Labs streams that are still not done), so I wrote this short thing instead. Sorry I couldn't deliver in time, folks.

"There's something about twilight that just overwhelms my senses. "

Kiara turned to her companion as they watched dusk fall over the Last City from the top of the Walls, having just returned from a Nightfall mission. For a minute Rhylan kept silent before he continued.

"When I look at your eyes at sunset, the world just... fades away."

By now, Rhylan had shifted his gaze to his companion and had reached his hand out to hold hers. Eyes brimming with warmth no Fonts of Light could bring, he found the breath and strength to say what had been weighing heavily both in his mind and heart for the past few months.

“I love you.”

The words left Rhylan’s mouth and landed upon her ears like sweet balm, sending a spike of something sharp and electric through her body and at the same time gently pushing against a wall long erected.

Rhylan blinked and pursed his lips. His eyes – though long hardened by centuries of war – flickered with a small stab of hurt. “… Does that frighten you?”

“… Yes.”

Kiara’s breath hitched in her throat for a moment as she maintained his gaze, his eyes remaining tender as his strong hands gently held hers.

“But that’s okay.” Kiara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When they opened, orbs of starlight locked with tender, hazel ones, and the Warlock felt like losing her ability to breathe as the wellspring of the Titan’s heart poured through those portals to his soul. With another small intake of air, one final push from inside collapsed the barriers around her heart.

“Because I think I love you too.”

A complete and utter silence occupied the moments that followed; how could the Titan not hold her in his arms and kiss her senseless, having heard what he had said returned to him just as sincerely? Somewhere in between these kisses and his mind racing to recount the last couple of minutes, a laugh swelled in the man’s chest and forced him to break away just a bit, their foreheads still pressed together.

Kiara, letting out a few heavy sighs and frowning slightly, asked, “What is it?”

“You _think?”_

Kiara stared up at him for a few seconds before groaning and faceplanting into his chest, her hands still clutching his. “Rhys… we were having a _moment._ ”

That just made the Titan laugh harder, all the while letting go of her hands and wrapping an arm around her in a half-embrace. “I’m so sorry,” he managed between his cackles.

“Ugh, you ruined it…”

Rhylan’s laughter slowed to mere giggles, a loving smile written all over his face as he gently tipped her head with one hand to meet his gaze. “Did I?”

Kiara let out another groan. “Stop doing that.”

The corner of his lips curl further upwards. “Doing what?”

“ _That_. That adoring gaze that makes me not be mad at you.”

Rhylan chuckled. “Now why would I ever get rid such an effective way of defending myself?”

She pouted and gave him a deadpan look.

He grinned and pulled her close again, placing a gentle kiss on her pouting lips and almost immediately deflating her. Drawing back just enough to glimpse her eyes again, Rhylan saw that Kiara was at the most beautiful he had ever seen her.

“I love you, Kia,” he said softly, voice filled with every emotion he could pour into his words.

She smiled widely – forehead pressed against his – and breathed her answer against his lips. “I love you too, Rhys.”


	9. The Black Shield

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise chapter! I figured since some of you probably haven't seen this one already on FF.net, I might as well post here my first ever Destiny fanfic. Not the best, I admit, but we've all gotta start somewhere right?

The structure trembled for the nth time that day.

Rhylan sat on the floor of a decrepit residential building, taking a moment to catch his breath. The Cabal, in all the infinite wisdom they possessed, had deemed it necessary to lay waste to this sector of the EDZ with half a dozen Goliath tanks; their commanding officer, an upstart Valus, had taken to the fore and was personally demolishing every old high-rise building in front of him with his oversized blaster, desperate to flush out the immortal war machine that broke their ranks a few hours ago.

As the Titan drew a sharp breath and prepared to move, he heard the low hum of ion engines in the distance -- a squadron of Cabal gunships, flying in formation and seemingly there to reinforce the forces on the ground in their search efforts. Rhylan made sharp clicking noise -- the only sign of annoyance he ever displays, as the presence of more Cabal troops will make completing his mission incredibly difficult.

As a Vanguard enforcer, Rhylan has had his fair share of nigh-impossible strike missions, and yet his current mission did not even warrant strike status. His experience in working with the Hidden in the past, as well as his capacity for running strike missions on his own, has led Ikora to personally ask him for assistance; two members of the Hidden had failed to report in to the Warlock for 36 hours now, and she was growing increasingly concerned that they may have found a threat to the City they are attempting to address. To that end, the Titan had been requested to search for the pair in the old Widow's Court sector of the Dead Zone, their last point of contact with the Tower in any capacity.

The Titan's search for the missing Guardians has been complicated, however, by the unexplained presence of Red Legion remnants in the sector. As far as Rhylan knew, the Cabal have effectively stopped fielding important assets like Goliaths on Earth, much less coordinate an entire division of tanks with infantry and air support in tow. Surprisingly still was the fact that the gunships flew past the buildings and made to land near the Valus and his tanks; the Centurions and the tanks themselves have stopped firing. Decidedly curious about the abrupt end to the shelling, Rhylan peeked out the window closest to him as discreetly as he could.

When the gunships landed, Psion Flayers rushed out and secured the sides of the ship, followed by two Centurions in gold-trimmed armor. Clearly, these gunships were delivering something important, and no sooner did this thought cross Rhylan's mind that three more Cabal legionnaires walked out of the ship bay with a large table being moved by repulsorlift. The Valus, appearing to have his confidence bolstered by what he saw, began barking a series of orders to his soldiers, turned to the general direction of the building Rhylan was hiding in, and started gloating about his victory; he had what he came for, Rhylan's Ghost translated for him. When Rhylan zoomed in on the table with his rifle, his fists clenched around the firearm's frame, threatening to break the fragile steel construct.

Laid out on the table in gory fashion were the remains of the two Guardians the Titan had been tasked to find; Warlocks, if the robes were any indication. Next to the tattered remains were crushed shells, likely what was left of the pair's Ghosts. Rhylan immediately began to see red; his ears registering neither the Valus's disgusting boasts nor his Ghost's fearful cries, the Titan heard only one thing: the crackling of fire, and the sound of metal hitting living metal as his left fist punched the wall and tore open whatever cover the building provided. Red lines pointed directly at his helmet, the last thing Rhylan remembered doing consciously was raising his hand to summon a Hammer made of fire, burning with all the rage he could muster. The last thing any of the Cabal would see was a hulking figure clad in black armor, setting fire to the world.

 

 

 


	10. Stud Poker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while since I last posted anything, mostly because I've been too lazy to do anything outside of just play my video games.

It is nighttime, and an eerie silence hung in the air as two pairs of Warlocks and Titans convened in the ruins of the Old Tower.   
  
"It is decided, then?" the Awoken Titan asked. In the shadow of old Courtyard's wreckage, his blue skin seemed to glow faintly with the Traveler's Light. His companion, Ikora Rey, kept quiet a few paces behind him.  
  
The Vanguard Enforcer known as Rhylan stared back at his commanding officer and friend, and replied, "Yes." Besides him, Kiara stood just as quietly while holding onto his hand.  
  
"As per 1700 City Standard, I have chosen to play a significant role in VIP#1315's operations beyond the City, including whatever dealings he has with known rogue elements."   
  
Zavala closes his eyes and exhales deeply, hands clasped behind his back. The issue regarding the Drifter's place in the City has been gnawing on many a Lightbearer for months on end now.   
  
While there have been no known casualties since Gambit was introduced to the Guardian populace, the Drifter has constantly pushed the boundaries of what interactions with the Darkness must be tolerated.  
  
The small hand wrapped around Rhylan's grips him tighter, and Kiara nods for her lover to continue. "As I am effectively resigning my commission as Vanguard Enforcer, I also recommend to the position the Warlock Kiara Proel."  
  
Ikora bows slightly. "Your services are welcome in the Vanguard, Warlock. Welcome."  
  
Zavala shares a look with Ikora, and turns around to face Rhylan and Kiara again. "Is that all, Guardian?"   
  
Rhylan shakes his head. "There is one other thing..."  
  
As if on cue, Kiara draws a small hand cannon from inside her robe and steps forward. Holding the weapon by the latter half of its barrel, one could barely make out well-worn gold trimmings and the word 'TEX' engraved on the side of the gun.  
  
"Is that..." Ikora tries to ask, but Kiara cuts her off.  
  
"The Last Word, yes. It was given to me as a... 'gift,' shall we say, by the Man Himself," the Warlock says, before holstering the weapon by her hip.  
  
A pregnant pause ensues between the four, and it is a few moments before anyone speaks again.  
  
"Zavala, the Vanguard -- all Guardians -- are being made into pieces for some cosmic chessboard we can't see yet," Kiara says, her hold on Rhylan's hand never loosening. "If we want to see the City through this game, we need players on both sides of the board."  
  
She raises the hand clasped around the Titan's for the Vanguard Commander to see.  
  
"Drifter's always going on about his Gambit like it's a card game, so..."  
  
"Why not keep an ace up our sleeves?"  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More stories to come (hopefully) in the next few weeks, so stick around folks.

**Author's Note:**

> First time here in AO3. Since I contend with multiple major requirements at uni almost every week, updates are scheduled every Friday or Saturday. Drop a line or two to comment on my writing style, the stories I write, or really just anything on your mind about the state of the game.


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